Father, Brother
by kompulsivelyKapricious
Summary: I already knew blood was difficult to wash out of things because I was a real kid once, and like any normal kid, I fell and hurt myself. Probably more than the average kid. But that was beside the point. There would be stains you couldn't wash out; memories you just can't erase. Itachi/OC/Sasuke - set before Uchiha Massacre - OC/? - MildLanguage - violence


**Father tell me, where did I go wrong?**

**You never made me feel like I really belonged**

**'Cause I'm not satisfied with where we are today**

**And I just don't know, don't know**

**Don't know what's ahead**

**I'll just keep high hopes, high hopes**

**Locked away instead**

**Brother listen, when you hear this song**

**I forgive you for all that you've done wrong**

**'Cause I'm not satisfied with where we are today**

**And I just don't know, don't know**

**Don't know what's ahead**

**I'll just keep high hopes, high hopes**

**Locked away instead**

**-Father, Brother; Escape the Fate**

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><p>I always supposed something bad was going to happen in my lifetime, I just never knew when or what exactly was going to happen. I figured maybe it was going to be something along the lines of losing a friend or someone telling me I'm stupid. But those were childish thoughts; things I didn't care about whether they happened to me or not, because I already knew I had no one to lose and no one to tell me bad things. It wasn't like I hated my family, and I knew they didn't hate me either, but it wasn't like they were there for me. Or they didn't make much of an effort to be.<p>

Maybe I did resent them for it, even if it was just a little bit, but I could never hate them, because you can't hate family. At least that's my opinion. No matter what happens, I just could never bring myself to hate them. I guess you could say I had seen it all to be able to come to that conclusion. Maybe you're thinking I'm really old and wise, but that's not the case, and I haven't seen everything either. I'm still young and naive; I don't pretend to know everything, but when your family is slaughtered right in front of you, it kind of sobers you up. The childish outlook you had in life disintegrates and leaves you hanging there by a thread, wondering who kicked the stool out from under your feet and left you for dead. And why.

I always wondered why. It wasn't like I could figure it out with just a few hints and a glance at the crime scene. I was there when it happened; I didn't need to nor did I want to look at the crime scene. And to be honest, I couldn't even bring myself to do it. I already knew blood was difficult to wash out of things because I was a real kid once, and like any normal kid, I fell and hurt myself. Probably more than the average kid. But that was beside the point. There would be stains you couldn't wash out; memories you just can't erase.

My brother, unlike me, liked to visit the compound frequently. I don't know why he went there almost everyday, but whenever he came back, he always looked angrier than usual. I wanted to know why, but I didn't ask him at first; I had never felt so far away from my older brother, so overwhelmingly out of reach. He just kept walking and he never looked back. I wanted to know what he saw, but I was blinded by my own form of resentment. I was the complete opposite from him. While he could never look back I couldn't bring myself to look forward.

I guess you could call it the desire for closure. Even though I tried to tell myself I didn't want to know why it had happened, curiosity got the best of me. I tried asking my brother what he had seen, but he would lose that angry look, smile at me sadly, and then walk away. He hardly ever spoke to me about that time, even if I asked him a direct question. It made me angry. It made me want to see for myself.

But I never went.

Needless to say, I was scared of what I would see. I was scared of becoming like my brother. Unlike him, I wasn't angry. Maybe it was because I had never got really attached to any of my family members in the way he had. Maybe it was because I was still young when they had been killed in front of me. Or maybe it was because I truly didn't care. But no matter the reason, I didn't want to bury myself. My brother was digging his own grave. I wanted to live and forget. I didn't know what he wanted to do, but I didn't want him to do it. He was the only family I had left. I didn't want to be alone, no matter how used to it I truly was. It was selfish of me.

But it wasn't like he listened to me anyway.

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><p><strong>AN: Okay, so this is going to be a story I'll write whenever I can't get anything out for ****_Hollow Queen. _****But never you worry, I will update HQ tomorrow. It's in my Drive, and it's very nearly done. And it's long. Or at least I think it's long. And it's probably a little wacky in terms of it's speed and all of the dialogue, but remember: this is Shisui and Naoko we're talking about. I'll be doing major editing tonight. I'll update tomorrow before I go to bed. Which will probably be sometime around eleven PM for me. I don't know for all of my international viewers/readers.**

**Anywhoodles, I hope you enjoyed this. This is a brainfic, something I just whipped up cause I was feeling more creative than usual today. I'll actually keep this one going for anyone who likes it good enough.**

**Also, this fic probably won't have any major pairings. It's probably going to be more of my OC/MC finding herself rather than a romance thing. I might give her a few flings, but we'll see. I kind of want to do Gaara/OC, but we'll see where it takes us. **

**Au revoir!**


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